Caution: Dangerous Curves Ahead
by sunnylikesunshine90
Summary: After recovering from the loss of her only child, will Rachel ever be able to defend the city as she once did - or is her perception forever skewed? ((Continuation of Ahead of the Curve fanfic))
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Caution – Dangerous Curves Ahead

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Chicago PD, Chicago Fire, or any song lyrics/quotes contained within. This fanfiction was written for entertainment purposes only, and as such, I am not making a profit (and have no intentions to go 50 Shades mainstream on you guys)

 **Summary:** Recovering from a nightmarish past is never easy. Will this second chance be Rachel's lucky chance – or will it just be the end of the road?

 **A/N:** This one has been fixed, too. A quick note to clear some things up: Erin and Jay are married – hence the reason I don't mention Erin much in the work scenes. She had to transfer out of intelligence temporarily until they could get the powers that be to approve a husband and wife working together in such a danger prone unit. PS: Yes, I know this is a weird first chapter, just had to get past this to move the story along a bit.

* * *

The faint but steady beeping of the heart monitors soothed her as she hovered between consciousness and not so conscious. The nurses moved through the hallways, a certain beauty found in the repetitiveness of their daily routines. Smells of astringent cleaners and sanitizers permeated the already-too-thick hospital air, making her already upset stomach roll in protest. Her body jerked upwards, hands flailing for the bin, not questioning how it ended up in her hands before releasing the contents of her stomach into it. A large hand soothingly rubbed her back, murmuring words of support and reassurance.

"Oh good God, this is awful", she groaned, head falling back against the pillow, eyes remaining shut in an effort to shield herself from the bright florescent lights. Every inch of her body ached, as if she had had the flu for weeks upon weeks.

"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you OD on heroin and they have to pump your stomach.", a voice growled. Rachel wasn't terribly surprised when she turned her head and found a rather pissed off, and somehow exhausted looking Hank Voight sitting in the chair beside her bed. She wanted to say _something_ , anything – to apologize for the state that he had found her in, to apologize for him having to save her yet again.

"Hank,"  
"Stop talking."

Placing the cup of coffee he had been toying with on the small table beside the bed, Hank stood up, pacing back and forth as if contemplating his next words.

"When you were 14 years old, so damned dope sick that you couldn't tell which way was up, I sat with you on that bathroom floor and promised that I wasn't going to let anything happen to you – but that I couldn't go through that again, couldn't see you... _hear you_ begging me to kill you, to make it stop.", his words paused, but Rachel remained silent. "I get that you miss Jackson. Losing a kid? That's awful shit. I get it. I _get_ it – because when I got into that apartment and saw you passed out on that sofa, I was pretty sure that I was going to have to watch my daughter die...and I can't do that, Rachel. I _won't_ do that."

The quiver in his normally strong voice had both of them teary eyed, the raw emotion seeping through each of his words.

"I just...I miss him so much, Hank. If I had just been a little bit quicker..."

He had her in a hug before she even knew what was happening.

"This isn't on you, Rachel – do you understand me? This is somebody who was sick in the head long before we ever crossed paths, and nothing any of us could have said or done would have erased that damage, y'know?", he murmured, careful of the IV's and heart monitor leads. She nodded her head, wanting to believe Hank, but noticing that that nagging feeling of guilt still lingered in the pit of her stomach, screaming that she had let her son, her flesh and blood, down in the worst of ways.

With a knock on the door, the pair separated, a slight smile spreading across her face as old friend and coworker, Alvin Olinsky, stuck his head through the opening.

"We up for visitors or should I come back after I score some more H?", he asked, the trademark smirk on his face, not doing such a great job of masking his worry over Rachel's condition. Waving him in, Voight placed on last fatherly kiss to Rachel's forehead before picking up his cup of coffee and tossing his jacket over his arm. "I'm going to go for a walk, give Justin a call and let him know where things are. I'll be back in a bit."

The room was silent for a bit after his departure, neither Rachel nor Alvin knowing how to approach the topic at hand. He had known bits and pieces of what had brought her into Hank's care at fourteen, but beyond the essentials, he knew little else.

"I tried to kill myself once."

 _'Okay',_ Rachel thought. _'That's one hell of a way to start a conversation, Al.'_

"Had just left Narcotics, Lexi was real small – maybe six months at the oldest, had Meredith on my back about money being so tight. Things felt like they were...like the walls were closing in on me and I just couldn't see a way out. I figured that maybe with my pension, state benefits, it'd be enough for Meredith and Lexi to make a go at having a nice life somewhere outside of Chicago, somewhere safe."

Rachel remained quiet, listening to this stoic person tell a story of what would have had to have been one of the hardest periods in his life, a time that very few people probably knew about, if any.

"I had just come home from a 13-hour shift, was...sitting in my car in the garage, and just couldn't bring myself to go in the house. It was real late, knew that the girls were probably long since asleep, and I just sat there. My service weapon was sitting on the passenger side seat, a .32 that I had got right after I joined the department. Next thing I know, the barrel of that .32 was shoved between my teeth. Christ, I could taste the cleaner I had used it on that morning before leaving the house.", Alvin's voice hitched, lost in the memory from his past and for a minute, Rachel thought it's like he was almost in a PTSD episode, like he was actually back to the night in the garage. But just as quickly as he had slipped into the memory, he snapped himself out of it, brushing it away as thought it were nothing of importance. "Long story short, I realized that things seem godawful in the moment. They seem like you are never going to make it to the other side, but Rachel, I swear to God, you **will** make it to the other side, and when you do, the problem that seemed impossible to overcome won't seem as awful anymore."

With a slight, uncertain nod of her head, Rachel found herself imaging what had happened if her suicide attempt had been successful - and was horrified at what would become of the people she loved (at least what would happen in her mind). Choosing to follow Alvin's advice, she knew she needed to push through, to push until it felt like she was about to break - and then push even harder. She had to make it worth it, wouldn't - couldnt' - let her son's death be in vain.


	2. Angel with the Scabbed Wings

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Chicago PD, Chicago Fire, or any song lyrics/quotes contained within. This fanfiction was written for entertainment purposes only, and as such, I am not making a profit (and have no intentions to go 50 Shades mainstream on you guys)

 **A/N:** Thanks for continuing to follow this story through season breaks and through my (best case scenario) sporadic updates. I hope that you continue to do so and find the effort worth it. I know I'm just barely referencing season 2 in this fic, and that's mainly because I don't have the time to go back and watch the entire season, just bits and pieces when I have some spare time. Starting off with season three as it progresses is going to be easier. For the sake of "I wanted to", I'm making it like Mouse was hired on while Rachel was on family leave from the department. Just go with it ;)

* * *

" _Tomorrow when I awaken, the slate will be clean, and a new day will stretch before me. God's mercies are new every morning." – Lori Hatcher_

A new day, a new opportunity – that's what Hank had assured her as she had stepped into the house that had been her childhood home, once again under the wing of a man who swore his guidance and protection to someone who shared no more obligation with him than the mail man. Rachel had wanted to stay in the house, but after massive amount of persuasion both from Hank and Erin ( _"and eventually Jay too, that traitor. Good thing Erin married his goofy ass…"_ , she caught herself thinking more than once), the decision was reached that the memories there would be too much for her right now, not when she had to make a valiant effort to stay clean for good. Until her house sold and she was back on steady ground, Hank had told her she'd stay with him – under the provision that she take weekly drug tests to prove that she didn't fall off the wagon again. Truth be told, the structure was what she needed, a schedule she could depend on until she could get her head on straight and find her own way.

Work was the first step to getting back to normal, she had argued – and had actually been successful. Having not been there for the three months since Jackson's passing had been rough on the rest of the team, placing the already stressed detectives under more weight and while they understood she needed time, they had all seemed somewhat relieved to see her walk back into the bullpen that morning. Diving in headfirst had actually been helpful, and for a very short while, Rachel felt normal again, felt like this were any other day and reminded her that what they were doing here very day was part of a much bigger picture. The normal feeling was, however, immediately followed up by an unexpected wave of guilt that, if she had access and knew she couldn't get in trouble, would have had her reaching for a syringe of her favorite junk. Instead, she went for the tech lab, knowing that it was mostly deserted and would spare her a few moments of privacy for her breakdown, finding a chair hidden behind the rows of files and computers before she completely lost it.

"Hey...uh...you, uh...you okay?"

Hearing a timid voice, Rachel peaked up to see a man standing before her, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot as if he weren't sure what to say or do to console the crying woman before him. She began wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, very much glad that she hadn't bothered with any sort of makeup before leaving the house that morning.

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry about all of this.", she tried to joke off with a laugh, gesturing to her momentary lapse in steadfastness. "Just been a rough day is all, needed a quiet place to lose my shit."

Seeming much more grateful that she had calmed down on her own, the fidgety man's stance loosened up and he moved further into the light where they could actually see one another. He didn't strike a chord with Rachel, and she figured it must be the guy Voight had mentioned taking on after Jin's murder. Ruzek and Atwater had been doing more harm than good to anything tech related in their card, so Voight had been forced to look for outside help – a search that ended when Halstead dropped a former informant (and fellow soldier) into his lap.

"I'm just making the best first impression, aren't I?", she chuckled, straightening herself into something resembling a functioning adult who hadn't just been crying by herself in a dark corner. With a slight smile, she extended her hand towards him, relieved that he didn't seem scared off by her.

"Rachel Clarke. I'm with Intelligence upstairs."

"Yeah, I...uh...I'm...uh..."

Reaching out, Rachel placed a hand over his mouth for a moment, effectively silencing him.

"The stammering thing is endearing and all, but if you don't stop, I'm not going to be able to understand a single word you're saying. Now take a breath and get a full sentence out."

Once he nodded, her hand fell back to her side and she could watch as he visibly took a deep breath in, held it for a moment and then exhaled, as if collecting his thoughts.

"Greg Gerwich, but everybody calls me Mouse. I'm the new tech guy, I guess. I heard about your kid, it's a really shitty situation, I'm sorry about all of that."

Over the past few months, she had gotten used to the sadness, to the looks of pity and despair that she had always gotten when people found out that her son (a young child, at that) had passed away, leaving her on her own. Most of it was fake, something for people to say so that they wouldn't feel as bad about going home to their idyllic cookie-cutter lives – but something about the man before her, something in his eyes spoke of his innocence, of the truth she could find within his words.

"I appreciate that, Mouse. It's...I'm working on getting back to normal.", she nodded in affirmation, a silent form of thanks for the peaceful offering from someone who knew neither she nor her child but was still willing to help if he could.

' _I'm etting back to something – although normal...well, that's relative.'_


	3. Duct-taped Heart

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Chicago PD, Chicago Fire, or any song lyrics/quotes contained within. This fanfiction was written for entertainment purposes only, and as such, I am not making a profit (and have no intentions to go 50 Shades mainstream on you guys)

 **A/N:** Kind of choppy this chapter (It wouldn't let me use the normal para breaks, so you guys get random horizontal lines) – but the episodes never tell just one person's story, it bounces back and forth; Why shouldn't this fic be the same way? Also the promo for next week's episode has me really worried about Mouse – I'm starting to like him, don't y'all go doing anything to him just yet! * glares at Dick Wolf *

* * *

" _Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it." – Ann Landers_

It had been a long few months, case after case keeping them busy – the Intelligence Unit's clearance rate (and conviction rate) shooting through the roof, and while she would've liked to have been able to say it was because she had finally came back from family leave, Rachel knew it was really a team effort of some great detectives putting their combined years of service and the knowledge gained from said service together. Burgess' stumbling onto the murder of a little boy (which inadvertently uncovered the past unsolved murder of another little boy and attempted murder of a third child) was tough. It was the first case since coming back that Rachel had had any trouble letting go of after the shift. It felt as if everyone's eyes were on her, watching – waiting to see if she'd lose it again, and there was a certain smug sense of self-pride when she held it together during the duration, bringing Damien Boyd's son home to him safe and sound. The look on the mother and father's faces when they got to hug their child again was what kept her coming back to work day in and day out – although she knew the road ahead of that family would be tough, Damien still had to face the consequences for hiding a murder weapon all those years ago.

It had been until she got back to the division and was cornered by a guy at the bottom of the stairs that she felt herself getting knocked for a loop.

 _You've been served_.

With the handover over a manila envelope, one thick with the papers inside of it, the man was gone and she had to pretend like she hadn't just been served divorce papers (although it was hardly the first time an officer or detective had suffered the same fate in the halls of 21st Division. The divorce rate amongst police was surprisingly high).

Rachel had been expecting it for quite a while, and if she were being completely honest, she was surprised Justin had waited this long. They hadn't spoken in nearly a year now (not counting the one night of catching up soon after his release) – long before Jackson, since before he had even been shipped off with the Army – so when he had finally spoken with her, she wasn't altogether surprised when he mentioned a girl he had met near base, Olive, and knowing Justin's inability to keep it in his pants, she was even less surprised when he mentioned her pregnancy. Apparently, Hank had known for awhile and didn't want to be the one to break the news to his daughter in-law. _'Soon to be EX daughter in-law'_ , she mused to herself, eyeballing the packet of divorce papers resting on the bar in front of her. A part of her wanted to hold on to the anger and resentment, to be furious that Justin could move on to a new 'family' so soon, but quickly came to the realization that their marriage had ended long before the divorce papers had ended up in her hands. More in love with the idea of what they had been rather than what they could have, the rational part of Rachel knew it was time to move on, knew it was unfair of her to hold Justin back from the potential white-picket-fence family he could have with his new woman and child.

Figuring a drink was in order before she made the decision that would take her right back to the start, would wipe the slate clean and leave her with a freedom she hadn't truly had since she was 14 and had yet to meet Justin Voight, she had ventured to Molly's – the only bar in Chicago in which the bartenders knew her well enough to cut her off before she lost any self control.

* * *

Mouse had been venturing around the computer after work, watching the steady sureness with which the traffic lights changed from Red to Green and then slowly back to Red again, almost in a trance with the ease of it all. Jay had been leaving for the night when he caught his old buddy staring at the screens and in an effort to keep him from going insane ("Well, any crazier than you already are.", he had joked to Mouse), brought him to Molly's where he planned on meeting up with now on maternity-leave Erin. Truth be told, he worried about his friend often; War was kind to no one but the scars the other man had come back with ran much deeper than he could see, had led to Mouse leading a solitary life – but when he and Rachel had started hanging out, be it just bumping into each other around the district or when they'd all hang out for drinks after shift, Mouse had lightened up, had regained that spark of humanity that Halstead hadn't seen since they first met at boot camp all those years ago. Maybe Erin was right, maybe it was time for her sister to move on – and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea for Mouse to be at her side while she did so.

* * *

He knew something was up the minute he walked in with Jay and spotted Erin in a booth, watching the door as if the President himself was going to walk through it at any minute – glancing to the side for just a split second, just long enough for Mouse to catch sight of who she had peaked at. Trying his best to glare at Jay, Mouse was only able to hang on to the fake-anger long enough for Jay to throw his hands up in defense and motion towards Erin, as if indicating it was all her idea. With a laugh and shake of his head, he patted his buddy on the back and made his way to where Rachel was sat at the bar. Not to say that he didn't get along with the rest of the detectives in Intelligence, but it was nice having someone who understood the need for silence, to focus on anything and everything but what is going on in life at that very moment. Rachel seemed to understand that need for solitude and if anything, her desire for it outweighed his and the two often found themselves yanking each other back into reality.

* * *

"Y'know, staring at those papers isn't going to take them into your brain by osmosis, right?"

Craning around to glance over her shoulder, Rachel saw Greg walk towards her, his wide-eyed innocence mixed with a hint of amusement. Just beyond him, she could see the not-at-all subtle way Erin kept shooting her thumbs ups and waving her on while Jay struggled to contain his wife's antics. She had to give the woman credit – When she got an idea in her head, she went all the way with it. Erin had been trying to get her to move on from Justin for months, had never been all that supportive of them being together in the first place, having said on more than one occasion that it was just going to wind up with Justin either in jail or dead and Rachel struggling to pick up the pieces. Neither of them knew at the time just how close to the truth the lighthearted teasing would eventually be. When she had seen how close her sister and the unit's resident 'dumbie', as Atwater had dubbed him, had became, Erin knew it was the prime opportunity to get her sister even a small slice of the happiness that she and Jay were sharing.

"Well, I thought the bourbon might help with that – but if it doesn't, what the hell, at least I'm drunk when all is said and done.", she joked, motioning for him to take the barstool next to her, discretely scribbling her name on the final page of documents before shoving them back into the pocket of her coat slung onto the chair.

"That's one way to look at things.", he teased, motioning for Hermann to cut off Rachel's drink. "But, the booze isn't going to solve your problems, Rachel. Not this time."

They had talked a few times about her struggle with addiction and the way he had dealt with that same urge when he came back from Kandahar, the need to silence the doubts and worries in one's mind in whatever way possible – even if that method would leave them sick as dogs the next day. What the two sitting at a booth not far away knew is that he had seen what had gone down in the lobby a few hours prior, had seen the way Rachel's shoulders slumped ever so slightly when she realized what was happening.

"It's not...I guess...I just suck at letting go is all.", she nodded, almost numbly. Jumping into the great unknown of a future had never been something she had ever been able to do. Even if the plans had been thrown together on the fly, there was still something resembling a plan – but now? Without a husband – even if they didn't care for each other, and without her son – Rachel wasn't sure what her next step was supposed to be and that terrified her more than she'd ever admit to anyone.

"Look Rach, the truth of it all is that unless you let go of the past, unless you forgive yourself and the situation and the people surrounding it, until you realize that the situation is over, you're never going to move forward.", he mumbled, making a forward motion with his hands as she finally pulled her eyes from the now-empty tumbler in her hands and met his cool gaze. She nodded, letting the truth and reality of his words sink in, having already known that it wouldn't be fair to hold to what the past could have been and that she needed to allow Justin to experience what the future _could be_.

"Hey, I know my sister had Jay bring you here, but honestly, I doubt I'd be very good company tonight.", Rachel replied, glad to see that by the nodding of his head, Mouse agreed with her. The only thing she wanted to do now that the papers were signed and she was sufficiently buzzed was to go home and soak in a warm bath, forgetting about the nightmare that the day had been.

"C'mon then, there were some cabs waiting around out front. Let's get you home, Detective.", he teased, helping her slide the coat over her shoulders once she was off the barstool and guiding her towards the door.

Rachel allowed the feeling of his hand against her back reassure her as she was guided through the usual Friday night crowd and out the front door, knowing she was in for a long phone conversation with Erin in the morning about setting some boundaries in regards to setting her up in the future. There was a breeze outside, just enough to have her pulling her jacket tighter around herself as the duo waved one of the waiting taxis over.

"Hey Mou- I mean, Greg?", she asked using the man's rarely used first name, turning to face him once more before climbing into the cab. "...Thank you, for all of...this.", Rachel laughed tiredly, knowing that he was saving her from not just a hangover but a verbal lashing from Voight should she have shown up back at the house absolutely shit-faced. Stepping forward, she leaned in and pressed a gentle peck against his cheek, feeling something she hadn't even considered before. Turning towards the cab, she was stopped by the sound of his voice behind her.

"Rachel, wait,", he stopped her, using his grip on her arm to turn her back towards him, taking the peck on the cheek one step further and pressing his lips into hers. It wasn't a demanding kiss, didn't ask anything she wasn't willing to give, but it definitely cemented the fact that they were both in over their heads, that their mutual fuckery (as Rachel had once called it) connected them in a way that someone who hadn't been through great tragedy would never understand. Pulling away from her, Rachel could see that hint of the shy Mouse she had first met in the tech room but also the Greg, the man who often hid behind a combination of shyness and awkwardness, one who had stepped in front of a gun to protect his fellow soldier not because it was his job but purely because it was the right thing to do for a fellow human being. "Sorry, I – uh – I've wanted to do that for awhile.", Mouse spoke with a hint of a laugh, matching the soft, but still satisfied smile spreading across Rachel's face. "Now, get in that cab and go home, get some rest. Don't want bossman up our asses tomorrow."

Waiting until she was safely in the taxi and headed towards her temporary residence, Mouse turned to head back inside Molly's, blissfully unaware that the soon-to-be ex-husband of the woman he had just kissed was sitting in a car parked across the street, having seen the entire encounter.


End file.
